Reincarnation: The Forty Ninth Hunger Games
by bestgyrl
Summary: *CLOSED*. Bring it back. Research it and bring it back. Those tributes will never know what hit them... NON-INTERACTIVE, FFN GUIDELINES! Don't delete it again!
1. Capital Announcement

**Yes, an SYOT is coming your way, bay-bay!**

* * *

**Aberdonia Astric, Head Gamemaker's POV**

I stare down at my desk. The Hunger Games begin in six months and my team of Gamemakers still haven't returned with the research that I'm in desperate need of. Arena's aren't built in a day, and I need this arena to be the best arena yet.

The door opens and my head jerks upward—I even hear my neck crack. Today is the day! I smooth over my deep violet hair so that it doesn't look as if I've been pulling my hair out in anxiety.

"Do you have it?" I ask. Stupid question, but I_ need_ confirmation.

"Yes, I do," the Gamemaker responds. He walks closer to me holding the files and I reach out, grasping for them like a child about to receive a treat. My fingers finally grab hold of the files and I lay them down on my desk. Slowly, I open the file on top and reveal the research. My eyes skim over a few sentences, but I already know that it's perfect. "Are you please, Miss?" the Gamemaker asks.

I smile at him. "Very."

* * *

**Ooh! You'll never guess what THIS arena is! Never! I want people to try, but it'll NEVER happen. That'll be a bit of a running joke (at least for me). The next chapter (was) devoted to the form, and the chapter after that will be for accepted tributes.**


	2. Accepted Tributes

**Accepted Tributes.**

**A dash means that it's open.  
*****Tribute's Name*, *Tribute's Age*, *_(Creator)_***

**Yay! All 24 are in! So I might disappear for a few days at a time (because I get distracted and flustered like that) but I'll be back. Don't worry. And after your tribute dies (unless your tribute happens to be the victor) I have further plans for them. Take that however you wish.**

**Also, I'll remind you that the interactions will be at random, but what happens in them is up to me.**

* * *

**District One—Luxury Items:**

Female: Mohini Purana, 18 _(IamTheHydra)_

Male: Jaden Mordeen, 17, _(Hikari-Angel143)_

**District Two—Masonry:**

Female: Bella "Bell" Rayne, 15, _(WaffleManiac)_

Male: Nero Caligula, 13, _(XMistressChaosx)_

**District Three—Electronics:**

Female: Spark L'Or, 17, _(goldie031)_

Male: Alan Jay Clarkson, 16, _(Gnaaf)_

**District Four—Fishing:**

Female: Carmina BlueRose, 14, _(Hikari-Angel143)_

Male: Kallen Makefield, 17, _(wjjmwmsn5)_

**District Five—Power:**

Female: Candela Langley, 16, _(krigoo)_

Male: Jack Ryan, 18, _(Soundhawk)_

**District Six—Transportation:**

Female: Robin Turner, 15, _(GlassSnowDrop)_

Male: Gallus Nights, 16, _(Soundhawk)_

**District Seven—Lumber:**

Female: Skylar Bernard, 17, _(June Bell)_

Male: Guire Oakes, 15, _(cynicz)_

**District Eight—Textiles:**

Female: Gillian Swan, 15, _(Metal Flowers)_

Male: Anton Enders, 15, _(Blackwing44)_

**District Nine—Grain:**

Female: Golden Lox, 12, _(goldie031)_

Male: Dillion Cartel _(Super-Girl-Super-Awesome)_

**District Ten—Livestock:**

Female: Torria Fern, 16, _(karma anika) (My apologies to AshBuggy)_

Male: Ean Bane, 18, _(avocadoragdoll)_ (NOTE: I liked your tribute, but he was more flexible than the other D7 tribute. He doesn't have to change at all to switch districts)

**District Eleven—Agriculture:**

Female: Sadilito "Sadie" Rivers, 13, _(Chi-Chiwawa)_

Male: Lionel Samisen, 13, _(IamTheHydra)_

**District Twelve—Coal Mining:**

Female: Savannah Blanchard, 12, _(Zania330)_

Male: Taylor Martin, 14, _(MadisonWulfe)_


	3. District 1 Reapings

**Yes! I'm reposting, This is my way of defying FFN more than I already have, if this can count as defying. I mean, it's a story, it's not interactive, there are no explicit sexual scenes (non at all, for that matter)—was I actually breaking any rules? I think they found me because I put "*CLOSED* SYOT" in the previous summary. Well, it's gone now, and the word "*CLOSED*" is the only indication that this was ever an SYOT. So, re-enjoy the Reapings! Or go watch _A Very Potter Musical_ and wait for me to put out the D5 Reaping.  
**

**Disclaimer: Right. I own everything and I make _PAPER _on a daily basis. And I'm just writing a fanfiction of my own series when I could just ****make another installment to make even more money. Yeah, that's my life. Because I'm boss like that.**

* * *

**Mohini Purana, 18, District 1**

"Mohini!" someone calls my name. My eyes open and I'm expecting to be on my back, but I'm doing a handstand instead. This startles me and I fall backward. Well, if I wasn't on my back before, I sure am now.

"What, Aadarsh?" I ask, trying to hide my dissatisfaction. I don't exactly appreciate pain being my first feeling of the day, but I'm not one to complain. I backward roll and stand up, waiting for my brother to answer my question.

Instead he smirks and says, "Stand up, Mohini."

I roll my eyes and repeat the question, "What do you need, Aadarsh?"

"It's Reaping Day, remember? Or did too much blood rush to your head, acrobat?"

I smack my forehead. I'd completely forgotten. How on earth could I forget that I was supposed to get in extra training this morning?

"Why do look so worried?" Aadarsh asks me. "It's not like you're going into the Games, and this is your last Reaping. Get over it." He walks out of the room, leaving me to get dressed. I look outside of my window and see that it's still dawn. The only downside of living in District 1: The Reapings happen way too early in the morning.

I pull on my brand-new dress that my mother and father bought it for today and today only—something about needing to set a standard for our family. I love my parents, but they can be like children when it comes to getting what they want.

I quickly do my hair and makeup and run downstairs to find my family eating breakfast. My mother sees me, looks down, and frowns, obviously displeased.

"Mohini, what have I told you about wearing shoes? You go without them so often that hiding your feet should be a top priority."

I roll my eyes, but still say, "Yes, Mother," as politely as I can. I go to the coat closet and pull out my shoes. I knock off the dust that has accumulated and slip them on before awkwardly walking back to the table.

My father looks at my younger sister, Yamini, and smiles. "Just one year away, isn't that right, Yamini?"

"Yes, Father," Yamini replies, not looking up from her food. Though Mother and Father don't know, Yamini has told Aadarsh and me that she doesn't even want to volunteer. She hates the idea of the Games and doesn't want to die for fame—she actually wants to become a carpenter and just settle down with a nice girl.

"My, look at the time," my father says, looking at his diamond-encrusted watch. "I think that we should go."

We all rise from our seats and make for the Square. We split off from one another and go to our assigned sections—Aadarsh to Thirteen, Yamini to Seventeen, me to Eighteen, and my parents to the overflow section. I suck in a breath of air and subconsciously rub my leathered brown hands together.

Mayor Mordeen stands up and walks to the podium. He addresses all of his citizens with a certain expectance in his voice. Not that that's out of the ordinary, seeing as we're in a Career District.

"Welcome to the Reaping for the Forty-Ninth Hunger Games!" he says. "I know how excited you all are; I can feel it in the air! But as usual, we must remind ourselves of our past before we can look toward our future!"

And so the next half an hour is dedicated to the retelling of our history. To show the most respect possible for my last Reaping, I only slept through the first half of the film—I usually sleep right up until it's time to leave.

The video finally ends and it's time to introduce our victors. This takes forever, just because we have so many. Then the mayor steps down and our district's escort, Cynthia Derby, walks onto stage. As usual, it's ladies first. Cynthia tries to dramatize the choosing by taking forever and putting all of those hoping to volunteer on edge. She finally pulls out the name and reads it aloud: "Topaz Feldspar!"

I waste no time and I certainly do not wait for the volunteers to be requested—I go straight to work. I jump and flip over the heads of all of the people in front of me. I run to the stairs and do a series of front flips to skip as many stairs as possible. I land right next to Cynthia and she jumps back, obviously very impressed.

"Would anyone like to top that?" he asks the crowd. No one moves, so she turns to me and asks my name.

"Mohini Purana," I answer, standing straight. I look into the crowd and see the face of my parents, practically begging to know why I did this. I stare at them as I try to formulate my answer beforehand. How am I supposed to explain that I did it to save Yamini from having to do it? That I've been training in secret for years? Most of all, how am I supposed to tell them that I did it so that they'd finally see me as a warrior?

Man, have I got an earful coming…

She walks over to the other ball and pulls out a boy's name. She starts to read it, but a boy is already walking to the stage. The boy is tall (about six feet, a giant compared to me) and has spiky light brown hair and hazel eyes. I know him—don't know him personally, but I know him. He's Jaden Mordeen, the Mayor's son.

**Jaden Mordeen, 17, District 1**

"Yes, Mom?" I call back to her.

"Have you cleaned your room?" she calls back.

I roll my eyes. The answer is yes, but just to be a little difficult I say, "Why do I even have to clean it? I'm going into the arena! I think that a clean room is the least of my worries."

"Have you cleaned it?" she presses.

"Yes!" I finally answer. I look at my room once more; this is going to be the last time I'll see it. Not because I'm dying, of course. No, it's just that the next time I sleep in District 1, I'll be in the Victor's Village. I run downstairs, fixing my clothes on the way. I bump into my older brother Syrus at the foot of the staircase. "Watch it," I tell him.

"Why aren't you at you're precious training hall?" he retaliates.

"Please," I say, scoffing. "Do you really think that _I_, of all people, need last minute training?"

"Jaden, if you're going to be ignorant and praise something so barbaric, then you could at least have some pride in what you're doing and practice."

"What did you just say to me?" I ask, taking a step forward.

"No!" my mother intervenes. She turns to me. "You are _not_ getting into a fight today. I don't want you to mess up that pretty face of yours." She scans my face. "You've already got this scar on your nose from fighting and there's nothing that we can do about. And would you take out this silly black earring?" She reaches for my left ear, but I cover it.

"I can take it out, thank you," I say coldly, clenching my jaw; it's the only way that I can stand her when she's like this. I take the stud earring out and put it in my pocket.

She looks up at me again and sighs. "And do something about your hair. We don't need it spiking all over the place." She walks away, muttering, "How's he going to function without me in the arena?"

I give a half-hearted attempt at flattening my hair before glaring at Syrus again. "Just you wait. _When_ I win, I'll make Mom and Dad more proud than you ever could."

"Try not to die," he says nonchalantly before walking away. I roll my eyes before I see my little eight-year-old brother Vinny running toward me. My frown turns upside-down and I pick him up when he reaches me.

"Are you volunteering this year?" he asks excitedly.

I laugh with him before answering, "Yes, Vinny, I am."

"You're gonna win, right?"

"Of course I am. Those other tributes don't stand a chance against your big bro."

My family members finally come back to the front room and we walk to the Square. The sun hasn't even peeked above the horizon. Being the mayor's family (No, you heard right; the mayor's family) we have to be there before all of the other families. I have no idea what Syrus is talking about; if I went to last-minute training, I never would have gone to sleep.

We make it to the Square and while my father has a conversation with some of the peacekeepers and the escort, the rest of us go to our sections. I walk to the seventeen section and kneel, waiting for all of the other families to come. They all trickle in slowly. A few girls stop and talk to me for a while, but I can see right through it. They don't know me at all, so they're either interested in my looks or my family's power or both. But they all leave once I pick on them a little. What can I say, it's a habit.

After about an hour, it's time for the Reapings to start. My father walks up to the podium and addresses us all. He tells the story of the Dark Days and of the Capitol's power over us, then lists all of the victors from our district before Cynthia Derby, our district's escort, takes over.

She starts with the girls, nothing out of the ordinary. She then draws the girl's name; it's some girl named Topaz Feldspar. I think that I've spoken to her before.

But just as her name is called, a girl with nut brown skin and jet black hair springs from her section and basically does a tumbling routine on stage. I've seen her before, too—I've seen her performing in the street before. She finally sticks her landing on stage and Cynthia is pleased. She asks the girl's name and the girl tells her that it's Mohini Purana. Cynthia asks if anyone would like to challenge Mohini, but no one steps forward, so the Reaping continues.

Cynthia chooses the boy's name, but just as her lips are starting to form the first name, I'm already walking up to the stage. All eyes are on me because, well, I'm the son of the mayor. Why wouldn't their eyes be on me?

I make it to the top of the stairs and over to the microphone. As clearly as I can, I say, "My name is Jaden Mordeen, and _I_ am the year's male tribute? Does anyone have a problem?"

No one responds, which is expected. My father is the mayor, and anyone who challenged me and took my spot would be coming home to a dead family if they were to live. Our mines can be _so_ unstable…

So Cynthia welcomes me and Mohini and I shake hands. She actually seems like a nice girl.

Too bad she has to die…

* * *

**So, unfortunately, the net two chapters will just be story. I usually like to give you guys updates on what's going on at the moment, but since you already know, there's really no point in that. So there won't be any Me-Speak until the D4 Reaping, and that's just what was there before. I usually delete the Reaping file from my account before uploading a new one, since we used to only be able to upload 15 documents at a time. Well, not the limit is 50, so that's not a problem anymore.**

**The point: The ramblings from the D4 Reaping are old. See ya later!**


	4. District 2 Reapings

**Bella "Bell" Rayne, 15, District 2**

I throw the axe in my hand at the practice dummy; it hit it right where a tribute's heart would be. Smirking to myself, I look at the clock in the corner of the room and see that it's time to go home.

"Later, Juan!" I call to my trainer. He takes the Cuban cigar out of his mouth and tips it to me like a hat. He can be so greasy.

I run from the training center to my house, which is only two blocks away. I open the door, being careful to not wake anyone up. After shutting the door and locking it, I tiptoe upstairs and to take a shower. It takes about fifteen minutes and then I walk back to my room to put on my dress for the special event: The Reaping.

By the time I walk back out of my bedroom, the entire house is up and moving, my plethora of brothers and sisters bumping into me to get to where they need to go. I quickly walk downstairs and sit at the kitchen table. We're skipping breakfast, but this is where I have to meet everyone.

All of my family members file in—my father, my stepmother, my stepbrothers and stepsisters, and my brother and sister. My biological mother has been avoiding my family ever since she and my father got a divorce.

My older brother, Madden, sits down at the table and randomly lets out a loud belch. My stepsisters, Mayana and Kendell, scrunch their noses at this, so I belch too, just louder.

"Gross!" they say simultaneously. I just shrug them off.

"Jeez, Bella," Marson, one of my triplet stepbrothers says.

"Have some class," Kyle, another triplet, says.

"Could you?" Naren, the final triplet, finishes.

I can tell that they're kidding, but I flip them all off. My stepsiblings and I don't really get along. Then again, neither do me and my brother.

My sister, Elina, puts a hand on my shoulder. She's visiting for the Reaping. "Leave Bella alone," she says.

"It's time to leave," my father says, walking into the kitchen. Behind him is my stepmother, Lowia. I didn't like her at all at first, but she proved to be a much better person than her kids. We all get up and leave for the square. We make it just before they start directing people away from the square. I squeeze my way through everybody and find my best friend, Keria.

"Hey," she says when she sees me. "What's up?"

"The sky, the clouds, everyone's hopes for being in the Games," I answer and she gives me a sarcastic laugh. She opens her mouth to say something else, but she's cut off by the mayor. It's just stuff about the Games, our history, our past victors; absolutely nothing important, but it takes almost an hour to get through. I spend the entire time wrapping my ebony hair around my finger over and over. Then it's time for the Reaping.

Charlie Wild (female) digs into the Reaping ball and reads the name out loud. As soon as she finishes, several voices ring out: "I volunteer!"

Then it's a race for the stage. I shove my way past everyone around me and try to make it to the front. A girl is running next to me, obviously hoping to volunteer, so I punch her in the face. She falls to the ground, clutching her nose.

By the time I reach the stage, only one other girl has emerged unmarred. When she runs up she tries to hit me in the stomach, but I block her and the grab her hair. I spin her around and toss her like I'm throwing a wheel. She tumbles down the stairs and reaches the bottom, unconscious.

Charlie smiles at me and starts clapping. "What is your name?"

"Bella Rayne," I say, smirking.

"Very impressive," she says before walking over to the boy ball.

She pulls out the name and reads it aloud, but I'm not paying attention. I'm staring at the crowd, wondering who will walk out and challenge me. There are, once again, several cries of "I volunteer!" but all movement ceases when a woman with long black hair comes out of the crowd, carrying a boy who can't be more than eleven bridal-style.

She climbs the stairs and sets the boy down and kisses his cheek. She looks up and glares at me and (if my jaw was dropped before, it's on the ground now) it's not even a woman; it's a cross-dressing man. He walks off of the stage and I look at the boy she carried up. I wonder why he even agreed to carry the boy up. Doesn't the girl have any refusal skills?

But I think that I've seen this boy before at the training center. If I have, then he's not eleven, he's thirteen. He has pale blond hair that he's streaked with dark blond and goes down to his shoulders and dark green eyes. He appears to be wearing mascara, since his eyelashes are so dark in comparison with his real hair and he's pretty short.

But I don't care what he looks like. He'll just be red by the time I'm through with him.

**Nero Caligula, 13, District 2**

"Get off of me!" I say to my little sister, Octavia, as I violently shrug her off of my arm. She stares up at me, the hurt showing in her green eyes, but all I can think about is how much I want to drown her. Or electrocute her. Or, on a generous day, make it quick and just put a bullet through her head, matting her midnight black hair with blood.

"Be nice to her," Pompey, Octavia's father, says, glaring at me from across the kitchen. My mother says that I have to listen to him, since he lets us live with him in the Victor's Village, but I really don't care. I know that I love the Hunger Games, probably more than anything, but they failed me when they took my father's life and let this guy walk out alive.

"Whatever," I mumble under my breath, gritting my teeth and trying to forget the knife right beside me. I hear the doorbell ring and immediately rush to answer it. It has to be my best friends, Commodus and Elagabalus. Commodus is your stereotypical Californian surfer boy and Elagabalus… isn't. He doesn't even look like a boy since he's a cross-dresser. "Mom!" I call upstairs. "I'm leaving with my friends!"

"You better not do anything to embarrass me at the Reapings!" is the only thing that she says back. I let out a frustrated sigh, clench my fists and kick the wall nearest me, wondering why I even bother to tell her anything—she doesn't feel any love for me unless I'm making her look good. I continue to pound the wall, seeing only my mother's face.

"Don't do that," Commodus, the younger of the two, says and I stop throwing my tantrum. "Now go upstairs and change for the Reapings, okay sweetheart? They're starting soon."

I turn around and intend to start my way towards the stairs, but a sudden pinch on my bottom makes me turn around. I see Elagabalus smiling at me, which causes me to blush and run up the stairs. So my friends are a little more than friends—so what? At least they give me their attention, which is more than I can say about my mother nowadays.

I run into my room to change as fast as I can, wanting to leave as soon as possible. I finally emerge in a brand-new tuxedo, which apparently is cute enough to make both Elagabalus _and_ Commodus kiss my cheeks. Those two brother aren't very alike, so for both of them to want to kiss me means that I must look amazing.

I raise my arms and Elagabalus lifts me up. Commodus shutting the door behind us, we all make our way to the Reaping. When we make it to the Square Commodus leaves for the sixteen section and Elagabalus carries me with him to the seventeen section. We get a few stairs, which makes no sense since this has been going on since even before I was eligible.

The Reapings start and I miss all of the pre-Reaping propaganda since I'm talking to (and slightly flirting with) Elagabalus the entire time.

I only tune in for the Reaping of my gender, but everybody seems so amazed by something that the girl must've done.

"Take me up to the stage, please," I say to Elagabalus. As soon as the name is read I yell out "I volunteer!"

A few people look at me and gawk. Before Elagabalus and I even emerge from the crowd, everyone is staring at us and the other volunteers have frozen in their places. What, have they never seen a thirteen-year-old boy being carried by a cross-dresser before?

Elagabalus carries me all the way up the stairs and sets me down and kisses me on the cheek before glaring at my district partner, a girl with long black hair, extremely bright blue eyes, and a very clear face. You could say that she's pretty, and she'll definitely be an ally. Perhaps she'll even be my first kill. I don't know, let's leave the Games to decide that.


	5. District 3 Reapings

**Spark L'Or, 17, District 3**

"Let go of me Volts!" I yell at my older brother, who has me in a headlock. He's laughing at me as I flail and kick, trying to escape his grip.

"Come on, Spark!" he says as he draws for breath. "_You're_ still eligible for the Hunger Games and you can't even get out of a headlock?"

I know he's kidding, but it still stirs something in me, just like it always has. Ever since the last Reaping (he was eighteen and wasn't picked; he practically started dancing) he's been making jokes about me still being on the chopping block. I know he's kidding, but every time he says that I freak out. I start squirming around more violently than before, feeling like I'm actually in the Games.

"Let your sister go," my dad says from the elevator. Yeah, I know what you're thinking: _"Elevator? You're not in a Career District!"_ Well, I know that. My father is one of the leading technology _geniuses_ in this district, so we aren't exactly short when it comes to money.

Volts lets me go and I jump away from him fixing my hair. Returning to my normal self, I stick my tongue out at him childishly.

"And why aren't you ready yet?" my dad asks, typing on the pad next to the oven. Another advantage to having a rich technologist as a father: You're house will more likely than not be a Smart House. I listen to my father's words and run upstairs to the bathroom. I hop into the shower and my eyes scan over the buttons. They don't have labels, but I know what they all do. I hit the button that gives a quick and thorough shower (which I usually avoid, because it's incredibly painful and sickening).

The ceiling of the shower lets down an electrified rod that touches the top of my head and freezes me in place. Then the floor starts spinning me in place, the rod making sure that I stay upright. The water jets in the walls squirt me and I want to yell "OW!" but I can't. At some point the water starts smelling like perfume, so I know that the soap has been laced in. The smell disappears and I'm sprayed once more before the water stops and all of the devices retract.

I'm able to move again and the first thing I say is, "I should've showered earlier." Then I step out of the shower. A burst of air hits me in the face and instantly dries both my body and my long black hair. A small mechanical arm comes out of nowhere and hands me my towel, which I wrap around myself. I walk to look in the mirror and say aloud, "Clip and brush, please."

The mirror (which appears to be flat on the wall) swings open like a medicine cabinet. I grab my barrette and brush and the mirror closes. I fix my hair so that it's parted on the left and then set the brush down. I hold the barrette up to the left side of my head; the side with the yellow streak that interrupts the curtain of black hair. I clip my hair with the barrette and walk across the hall to my room.

"Wardrobe," I say as I lock the door. The wall in my room that appears bare opens and my automated clothes rack is revealed. I walk over and push all of the clothes out of the way to get to the back of my closet. I keep my Reaping clothes here so that I don't have to see them. I grab a simple electric blue dress that matches and emphasizes my eyes, along with some black two-inch heels.

I walk over to my vanity and quickly do my makeup and put on my necklace and earrings. Then I run downstairs and see my family eating breakfast.

"Come and eat," my mother says as soon she sees me.

I shake my head. "I'm not very hungry."

"You should eat anyway," she insists.

"Please don't let her," Volts begs, setting down his fork. Her, plus the energy that you get from food, plus surviving the Reaping will equal my ultimate annoyance."

"And how is that any different than how I feel after talking to you?" I ask, laughing at how I've just burned him. I still don't have an appetite, so I sit down until it's time to go.

We all walk to the square and I go to be with the seventeens. I see my best friend in the crowd, looking depressed. In other words, she's looking perfectly normal. I walk over to her and pat her on the back; we never talk during these things; it only complicates things.

So, after the whole boring hullabaloo that is the introduction, the escort finally reads the name: "Spark L'Or!"

Man, do I feel sorry for that poor sucker. She's probably gonna die in the—wait a minute. _I'm_ Spark L'Or.

"Spark?" the escort calls. I walk out of the crowd and attempt to walk toward the stairs, but I don't even put my foot down before the world turns to blackness.

I feel water splash my face and I'm snapped back into reality. I see a boy standing in front of me, as if waiting for me to do something. I take in his short brown hair, his blue eyes, his wide nose—wait. I know this boy. I think that he works for my family, but I can't be entirely sure…

Now what was I doing? Oh, right, I'm gonna die. Lovely.

**Alan Jay Clarkson, 16, District 3**

I lift up my hat and see that it's almost seven; it's almost time for the Reaping, which means that my shift is over. I grab my time card from my shirt pocket and walk over to the front door. I punch out before putting the card in my pocket and going to sit down again. Under normal circumstances I'd just go home, but considering that it's this specific family, I'm willing to stay until the next guy comes.

When he finally arrivers he's shocked to see me still sitting there and dismisses me. I get up and make my way back home.

I sigh when I enter my one-story house and walk into my room. I quickly change out of my night guard uniform and into a pair of black jeans and a white shirt. I walk back out and to the kitchen, where I see my dad leaning on his crutch and trying to reach something in a cabinet.

I tense up. "Dad, you shouldn't be doing that!" He got hurt in an incident at work and his right leg isn't going to be working any time soon. He should be relaxing, not reaching for high shelves.

"I can do it," he replies before his crutch shifts positions and he falls to the ground.

"Daddy!" my little brother, Matthew, yells and comes running toward us. A six-year-old seeing their father in pain probably isn't the best thing for their psyche. I follow Matthew to our father and help him stand up with his crutch. My dad used to be a night guard just like me, but he got injured during a burglary and he refuses to accept that he can't do everything that he used to be able to do.

"I'll go get mom and then we can leave, alright?" I say. My father nods and I walk to his and my mom's room. I knock on the door and she says that I can come in. I enter and see that she's still putting her hair up into a bun. "Are you almost ready?" I ask. She nods and puts in a few more bobby pins before picking up her purse and following me out of the room.

Back in the kitchen, she walks over to my father to help him while I walk over to Matthew. Picking him up, I say, "You ready to go, little guy?" I poke him in the stomach, causing him to giggle before nodding. The four of us exit our house and walk to the square. Once we reach it I set Matthew down and he runs along with our parents while I walk over to the other sixteen-year-olds.

The mayor gives the speech, shows the video, and reads off the list of past victors (this is the only part that takes less than five minutes). Then our escort, Adonis Underwood, reaches into a bowl and pulls out the girl's name.

"Spark L'Or!"

My heart stops. He can't possibly have called Spark to be in the Hunger Games. She's too happy for that, she's too innocent for that. I would know; I guard and protect her house every single night.

Spark finally steps from the crowd and steps forward—or, at least, she attempts to. She faints before she even makes it to the stairs. While two Peacekeepers rush to her and carry up the stairs of the Justice Building, Adonis proceeds to draw the boy's name.

"Alan Jay Clarkson!" he booms. I sigh, thinking, _Of course._

I walk from my section and toward the stairs. As I plant my foot onto the first step, I hear a single cry in the crowd; a cry that I'd know anywhere. I turn and see him in my mother's arms, kicking and screaming, my mother trying to restrain him.

Hesitantly, I turn back around and continue climbing. I can see him and properly say goodbye in the Building, when all of Panem isn't watching. I make it to the top of the stairs and Adonis congratulates me, as if this is something to be proud of around here.

I turn and look at Spark, just as they poor water on her face. Her eyes fly open and she looks confused. Then her eyes reach mine and she looks confused. I'd expect her to; she's trying to place me, but I'm just the barely-memorable employee.

"Well, shake hands," Adonis prompts. I reach out and she does too. As I shake her hand I notice that my hand nearly encases hers completely. "Ladies and Gentlemen, your District Three tributes!"

Well, maybe being reaped wasn't completely bad. At least I can protect her. I'll be true to my job until I die…


	6. District 4 Reapings

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games and I do not make any money from doing this. It's jus' fo' fun.**

**Now, I don't know about you guys, but I want to shoot myself. Writer hit me with his Block and scared away Inspiration, my flakiest friend ever. So every time I called Inspiration to visit again, he always agreed and then he never showed. When he finally did show up, he brought his friend Destruction, who just loves to mess with my life. So Destruction snuck onto my computer, closed the Word Document that I hadn't saved, and made me rewrite. How amazing are my friends?**

* * *

**Carmina Bluerose, 14, District 4**

"Hurry up!" my brother, Niel, says, banging on the door.

Rolling my eyes, I yell back, "I just got in here! Wait for five minutes!" I look in my mirror, fixing my straight brown hair into a high ponytail. I pull it up to my face to brush it a few more times before letting it fall back to my mid-back. I brush my bangs, too, sweeping them to the side. Finally I wipe the sleep out of my chocolate brown eyes and push on my black, plastic-framed glasses.

I step out of the bathroom and turn to my older brother. "Did that really take that long?" I ask teasingly.

He looks down at a watch that isn't there. "Five minutes, thirty-seven seconds. You took too long." He smiles and ruffles my hair, and my hands fly to the top of my head reflexively.

"I just fixed that!" I say, pretending to be devastated. I laugh at myself once he's inside of the bathroom and walk downstairs to the living room to turn on the TV. There's nothing on but live newsfeed of Capitol swarming a gigantic screen that will no doubt be playing the Reapings later on. I'm just surprised that they all got there that early.

Despite my disgust with their love of the Games (I sincerely hate the Games and its creators; they're all just rich and stuck up people who have too much time in their hands) I watch the interviews with random Capitol people until I hear my name.

My brother, Christian, is standing next to my father. I shoot out of my seat and run up to him; I didn't expect him to come and see us before the Reaping.

"Christian!" I exclaim, my smile practically dominating my face. I jump up and tackle him in a hug, which he returns once he regains his balance.

"I'll never understand why you kids are always so happy on this day," my mother says thoughtfully, still washing the dishes.

"There's no reason to be unhappy," I answer simply. "No matter how much we mourn, whoever's picked is still going into the Games. Might as well stay happy."

My mother shakes her head but doesn't respond.

"I think it's time to go," my sister, Luna, says as she heads for the door. My entire family heads to the door and we start walking to Square.

Once we make it there, I see my four best friends. "Dad, I'm gonna go and talk to my friends," I say to my father as Niel heads to the seventeen section, Luna to the eighteen section, and Christian escorts my mother to the overflow section. I start to walk away from my father but he puts a hand on my shoulder.

"Carmina, I should talk to you first," he says and I resist the urge to roll my eyes. I already know the entire speech so I just tune out as it plays in my head: 'Carmina, I know how much you hate the Hunger Games, but your name isn't likely to get called. Your name is only in there (insert number) times. We'll all be home again in a short while. I love you.'

"Love you, too," I say automatically. He pats me on the back and I finally go to join my friends, only to realize that Drew and Jiyo have left, leaving me with Kiley and Leana. "Hey, guys!" I say once I reach them.

"Hey," Kiley says with a playful smile.

"Hi Carmina," Leana says. Her face is calm enough, but I can still see the anxiety and fear in her eyes.

"Come on," I say, lightly prodding her toward the group of fourteen-year-olds. The Reaping begins and our district escort, Camirez Dougel, greets us with his booming voice: "Welcome, citizens of District Four, to the Reaping for the Forty-Ninth Hunger Games!"

Then he just goes on and on and on about our history and our past victors and a whole bunch of other blah. Then it's time to actually draw the names. I nervously begin to stroke my bracelet. It's charm is a teal token with a depression that resembles a fish. It's a family heirloom handed down to the youngest member, so I figure that it'll give me some good luck; it has every other year.

Camirez pulls out the name and reads it aloud: "And your female tribute is" —I begin to rub my bracelet feverishly and hold my breath— "Leana Gemstone!"

I don't release my breath. I forget how to. I forget my name and where I am. All I know is that my best friend is in trouble and that I have to do something.

"I volunteer!" I yell, surprised by how powerfully it comes out. Everyone turns to look at me as I walk from my section. As expected, two other voices ring out in the crowd: "I volunteer!"

It takes almost everything I have but I breathe deeply and say, "No, you don't," in my most forceful tone. This is my choice and even though they want to, my siblings can't help me now.

**Kallen Makefield, 17, District 4**

"For the last time, Dreya, I'm fine," I say as I hand my costumer his fish and he hands me twenty dollars.

"You're lying to me," she says. "I know that you _have_ to be feeling at least a little sad, Kal—"

I slam my hands down on the table in front of me, causing Dreya and a few of the people in front of me to jump. "Sorry," I mumble to her before asking the next customer how many fish he wants. He holds up three fingers, so I go looking in the cooler.

"Today _is_ the anniversary of when all of your siblings were picked for the Games. I just think that you're bottling up your feelings," Dreya says, appearing behind me.

"Maybe I am and maybe I'm not." I hand the man his fish and take my money. "But you're not getting any answer besides 'I'm fine'."

Dreya sighs, apparently having given up, which makes me feel relieved. She needs to understand that I have my own agenda to attend to and I just don't feel like cheering up today.

I close up shop for the day and head to the Square, smelling like fish and all. One, because I don't care enough to dress up, and two, even if I did care, I really don't want to go home to remember all of my siblings' deaths. I don't want to remember Drake, or Martin, or Mariana, or Maggie, or—

No one. There's no one else to be avoiding.

Soon enough the Square is full and Dreya is by my side again. Our _irritating_ district escort talks all about how "great" the Capitol is and how we should "be thankful for the opportunity to enrich our district."

But _finally_ he chooses the girl's name. All I know is that whoever got picked and whoever volunteered made too big of a scene to not annoy me, so I hope the volunteer dies in the arena.

Then our escort picks the boy's name. I didn't even care who it was; all I know is that my hand shot up and I was shouting "I volunteer!"

Just to get this over with, I literally run up to stairs and toward the top.

"Wow, two volunteers!" the escort say, making it seem way more exciting than it really is. "And what's your name?"

"Kallen Makefield," I answer, gritting my teeth.

"Well, there you have it!" he yells excitedly, apparently missing the message I was sending him. "Your tributes for this year's Hunger Games!"

* * *

**Okay. Under NO circumstance is disappearing for eighteen days cool, especially when the product is this chapter. It kinda sucked, IMO. But to wjjmwmsn5, I'd like to say that this is not all that we'll see of Kallen. I have... plans for him. Not killing plans, just... plans. My killing plans aren't reserved for anyone special, but they do require certain circumstances.**

**To everybody: You all should know that one of my friends found me on this site (*YAY!*) so she'll be giving me a kick in the pants if I don't update. She reviewed, too, but she was talking about strawberries and two people named Derek and Sam so just disregard her comments; no one outside of our group could EVER understand.**

**What was I saying? Oh, right. I'LL TRY HARDER TO UPDATE!**


	7. My Apologies

**Hello, everyone. Sorry if you thought that this was FINALLY a chapter. This isn't a chapter, and this isn't an "I'm ending the SYOT" note, either.**

**So as all of you might know, I haven't updated in a while. The reasons for this are, in the order that follows: Writer's Block, Power Outage (due to some *CENSORED!* storm), and Prolonged Writer's Block due to... unforseen circumstances.**

**As some of you probably remember (or not), I was involved in a Teen Shakespeare production of _Romeo & Juliet_. July 13th, 14th, and 15th (essentially this weekend) were supposed to be our final shows, but something came up that has deeply upset me. The boy who played Romeo—the sweet, talented, happy sixteen-year-old—has recently passed away. The show has been cancelled, and sadness overwhelms my inspiration. I was increasingly upset; I even cried, something that I don't do unless I'm so angry that I'm ready to kill someone, but it was real broken-hearted stuff.**

**I apologize not only for delaying your enjoyment but also for dumping my problems on you. I just felt that you all had a right to know.  
**

**I'll pick back up as soon as (as the _terrible_ book, Walk Two Moons, put it), "the birds of sadness stop nesting in my hair."**


End file.
